Page 45 of Shattered Obsession

“You always make me go first,” I tease, my voice laced with a playful defiance, even though the warmth bubbling within reveals just how much I relish this dance.

His hands find my thighs, strong yet gentle, as he holds me in place. “Because I like watching you take what you want,” he replies, sending a surge of confidence through me. That simple declaration shifts something deep within. For far too long, intimacy had been a tumultuous act of survival, a way to escape the hurt that had been inflicted upon me. But now, in this moment, it’s about reclaiming agency, about the joy of choosing what I desire. And tonight, I choose this, him.

The air around us seems to hum with electricity as I kiss him with an intensity that leaves no room for doubts or fears. With every touch, the world outside blurs, clothes fall away like unnecessary burdens, and heat surges between us. Xander’s voice becomes a soft, steady rhythm beneath me, grounding me even as the fire within starts to blaze.

“Breathe,” he murmurs gently when he senses me tense, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “You’re safe.”

A wave of calm washes over me, and I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with his scent—warm, inviting, and undeniably him. I let myself move with him, surrendering to the flow of our bodies entwined.

His hand comes up to cradle my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and the words make my stomach twist with heat.

I guide his hand downwards, my voice low and teasing but edged with need. “I want you to memorize how my body feels,” I whisper. His eyes flash, pupils dark and wide. I slide his palm lower, pressing it to my breast. “How it feels to have your hands on my tits when you squeeze them just right.”

A gasp escapes me as his fingers tighten, but I keep going, keep guiding him lower, down my ribs, across my waist, until his hand cups the curve of my ass.

“How it feels when you grab me like this. When you fuck me like I’m yours.” The words shake me, but they don’t scare me. They make me feel alive. I move his hand between my thighs, my breath stuttering as we feel how wet I already am. “And how it feels when I’m wrapped around your cock. When I’m the one making you lose control.”

A low growl vibrates in his chest. His other hand pulls me down by the back of my neck, crashing his mouth onto mine. The kiss is fierce, desperate, the kind that leaves no space for doubt. I moan into him as he trails kisses down my throat, biting softly at the skin before moving back up to claim my lips again. His fingers slide inside me, slick and sure, pulling a cry from deep in my chest. Every nerve in my body burns.

But for the first time in so long, I’m not afraid of being trapped.

I’m exactly where I want to be.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

-Thalia-

The sound of running water drifts down the hall. Xander’s home from work, in the shower, and I can’t resist the urge to surprise him. I slip into the lacy outfit I’d hidden away, a whisper of fabric that clings to my curves, leaving little to the imagination.

My heart pounds as I pad softly down the hallway, the steam curling out from the cracked bathroom door. When I step inside, Xander turns from behind the shower screen. His eyes roam over me, slow and hungry, lingering on every strip of lace and bare skin. His mouth parts, a low curse escaping.

“Thalia…” His voice is rough, already thick with desire. I step into the shower, pressing my lips to his as water cascades. The kiss is sweet only for a moment before I trail down his jaw, my tongue flicking against the line of his neck. I suck gently at the skin, leaving a mark that makes him groan. My lips slide down his chest, lingering over the hard planes of muscle, before I drop to my knees. I look up, my hair dampening in the mist, my eyes locked on his. Lust. Need. All for him.

I wrap my hand around his cock, already half-hard, stroking him slowly as my other hand cups and massages his balls. His head tips back, a groan vibrating in his chest. I take him into my mouth, and his body jolts. I swirl my tongue around his length, moving faster with each bob of my head. He tangles his fingers in my hair, but he doesn’t push. He lets me set the pace, lets me take control. I pull back, sliding my tongue along his shaft before sucking his balls into my mouth, making him moan deep and loud. His grip tightens, almost desperate, but when he tries to tug me up, I pull back with a wicked smile.

“Not so fast,” I murmur before teasing the head of his cock with a flick of my tongue. “I’m not done with you yet.” His groan is half frustration, half worship.

Finally, he pulls me up, kissing me hard and pressing me back against the shower wall. His hands roam everywhere, squeezing my breasts and sliding down my body until he’s dipping his fingers between my thighs. I gasp against his mouth, my knees nearly buckling when he presses against my clit. The heat of the water mixes with the fire of his touch. When he kneels in front of me, it’s my turn to fall apart. His mouth on my clit, his fingers working me open. My moans echo off the tile, my body trembling as I grip his shoulders.

Just as I’m about to break, he pulls away, leaving me whimpering. “Xander…”

His smirk is pure sin. “Patience, baby.”

He stands and pushes inside me inch by slow inch until I’m full, until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel.

His hand wraps around my throat, not harsh, just steady, keeping me pinned to the wall as he thrusts deeper, harder, faster. My cries turn to screams of pleasure as the water beats down and he brings me right to the edge.

“Come for me,” he growls against my ear. And I do, shaking, gasping, collapsing against him as he follows, spilling into me with a ragged moan.

When I step out, he’s there with a towel. It takes me a beat to accept the normalcy of being dried by another human. He doesn’t pry. He says nothing intrusive, only a soft, “Take your time,” while his hands are efficient and sure. There’s a holiness to the silence, to being allowed to move on my own timetable. After, he kisses me softly, forehead pressed to mine. “You drive me crazy, Thal.” I laugh breathlessly, letting him hold me as the steam swirls around us.

The apartment radiates warmth, suffused with the rich, inviting scent of garlic sizzling in olive oil, blending perfectly with the promise of a hearty dinner. I stand by the stove, stirring the bubbling sauce in the pan while a soft hum escapes my lips, an instinctive expression of contentment. Steam spirals up from the hot surface, wrapping around my face like a comforting embrace.

Behind me, I can hear Xander bustling about the dining area, the sound of glasses clinking together a rhythmic accompaniment to my cooking. He sets the table with casual grace and jokes about his boss, who wears sandals year-round. My laugh surprises me, how readily the ordinary slips in, and all at once, I’m struck by an overwhelming sense of domesticity, a feeling so new that it catches me off guard. It’s as if we’ve fallen into a routine that feels both natural and foreign, a rhythm I never realized I was capable of maintaining or that I deserved.

Yet my eyes drift to the window where a car once idled, and for the smallest second, the habit of scanning the street reasserts itself. Xander sees the pause and reaches across the counter to take my hand like a mapmaker finding where worry nests. The gesture is enough; I set the spoon down and breathe. The worry is still there, a pebble rather than an avalanche.

“You’re humming,” he teases, his voice light as he brushes past me, his shoulder gently bumping mine. He swings open the drawer with a practiced ease and grabs a spoon, dipping it into the simmering sauce before I can protest. With a playful flourish, he blows on it, letting out an exaggerated huff as if he’s about to taste something divine.